


Lovely Little Eyes

by Tea_is_Not_Them



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cutesy, Eyes, Fluff, It's sweeter than I'm making it out to be I swear, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Wears a Skirt, Loneliness, Mutual Pining, Other, Pining, Unresolved Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26366509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_is_Not_Them/pseuds/Tea_is_Not_Them
Summary: Jon is lonely, but there are some very strange little eyes who are willing to help
Relationships: Lowkey though, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 36
Kudos: 130





	Lovely Little Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in the drafts and it felt weird not upload anything XD
> 
> My Socials!
> 
> Insta: tea_is_not_them  
> Tumblr: tea-is-not-them  
> Tiktok: teaisnotthem

He was mostly alone. Jon didn’t really have friends at this point. Martin had gone, but he didn’t blame him, Jon was a dick and then he died. Of course he came back in the end, but he came back much too late. He did miss Martin though. He missed Tim. He missed Sasha, though he didn’t really know who Sasha was anymore.

Basira and Melanie were… complicated. Well. Not really. Basira wouldn’t hesitate to end him if he did something spooky near her and Melanie wouldn’t hesitate to kill him at all if she saw him. So he was alone. His original archive crew is either dead or working for Peter Lukas who is literally an Avatar of the embodiment of isolation. Whatever, it left him here in his office.

So he was alone, contemplating what it would be like to gouge his own eyes out. 

Until he wasn't alone. Something else was in the room with him. He turned his head quickly, slapping himself with what was left out of the bun he had put in days ago and hadn’t fooled with since, to see what was there. 

An eye. A floating green eye. It was about the size of a fist a little larger than his. 

He wanted to scream. Instead he just threw a pen at the eye with a short yell. The eye dodged, blinking at him in what looked like annoyance.

“Are you annoyed at me for being angry at you for infringing on my life? You just have to be here do you?” He practically growled at the thing, fixing his jacket. It was too cold in the Archives for god’s sake.

It did not respond, which Jon didn’t know to be happy it couldn’t say anything or feel stupid thinking a floating eye would talk back. It didn’t have a mouth. He didn’t have to Know to figure that much out.

“Leave. Me. Alone. Or I will throw a tape recorder at you, that'll cause real-” ocular, pain or disfigurement to the eyes, “damage…”

And the eye left, blinking out of view, pun not intended, Jon sighed and put his head on his desk. He was hungry, so he dug out a statement he had not yet read and began the task of feeding the ever-present fear god. He didn’t want to think about what eyes showing up could mean but he did not trust it at all. Jon’s worry melted away to the single track of reading a statement.

\----------

He was alone again, as he usually was. It was so quiet. Everyone in the archives had gone out to do something. Basira to do whatever she did, he didn’t ever ask or check, a little afraid she would know he was watching and come to kill him or something. Melanie was probably doing something like getting coffee or bitching. He understands that though.

So he was alone when the eye showed up again, sitting on his desk along with a little friend. The second eye was slightly larger, both the size of a good paperweight. They stared up at him like what Jon might think a puppy would do if it were begging for attention.

Jon glared, “What do you want?”

They, of course, did not answer. He wanted to throw something at them again, but he had nothing but his fist, and he was a little scared to see what would happen if he touched them. So instead he glared some more and got up to make himself shitty breakroom coffee. 

They did not follow as he went to the breakroom and he took a sigh of relief. As he made his drink he fidgeted and wondered, but they were still there when he went back to his office. Still sitting there like blinking rocks. He was annoyed.

“Do you want a statement? Are the tape recorders not enough?” He was irritated. He needed a shower and sleep. Showering would work if he wasn’t paranoid that two little floating eyes wouldn't watch him shower. Sleep would not work at all, he was too scared to cause any nightmares. He was also scared to live through said nightmares.

He sighed at them.

“I could pour coffee on you. It would probably hurt-” He was hit by the knowledge, and he scowled harder- “I can imagine burning an eye would.”

They did not move but as he moved the mug up as if to pour, they floated around and got closer to his face, as if to see what he was thinking. They both blinked at separate times and then disappeared. Jon groaned and took a sip of too hot coffee. He was too tired to deal with it today.

He sighed, and weighed out his option of showering and drinking his coffee. Not smelling like death was priority he guesses. And the coffee wasn’t much to write home about, so he left it to cool on his desk.

He missed Martin’s tea.

\------

He was in the breakroom, feeling very empty. He suddenly saw the person he wanted to see at that moment. Martin was sitting at a desk doing paperwork and filing statements in a cold room. He was in a cold room alone. He was still breathtaking as-

“-Hey wait! Quit that!” The two eyes became three as they popped up next to him. “Don’t spy on Martin. That's not ok.” 

No matter how much he desperately wanted to know what Martin was doing, how he was doing, literally anything, he would not stoop to that. He couldn't do that to Martin no matter how much he missed him. Jon wished Martin would talk to him. He really needed to get his act together.

The eyes looked confused, and Jon made a face. 

“Do not stalk Martin. Especially not for me.” He scolded thm sternly, pointing an accusing finger. They looked a little sad and he almost wanted to say sorry. But then he realized that he should not care, so he instead turned away and paid no attention to them. They stayed for a while, but after he left them alone for a bit they finally dematerialized and he sighed in relief. 

Now maybe he could get some sleep. Well. Maybe a decent twenty minutes of it.

\--------

He was reading out loud when he heard them. The tape recorder continued its humming on as he was shaken from statement trance by the presence of eyes. He turned and glared, hard.

“Is that what you want? Me to read to you? Like a preschool teacher?”

The eyes did not respond, but they all floated to his desk, arranging themselves in a half circle around the manilla folder that sat there. Despite himself he continues reading, making stupid extra gestures, being absolutely over dramatic. He actually started enjoying himself, practically acting the scenes from his seat. As he finished he looked at the eyes and they were squinting happily.

He smiled a little, feeling seen in a good way. It was kind of cute, to see these green eyes act like he had done something very kind. Then he realized these were from a fear god that he very much did not want to be friendly with. He shook off the slight smile and glared at them. They disappeared once more under his glare after a minute or two. Jon leaned back in his seat, huffing.

It was almost nice actually. To have something that was just there for him, with no need for him to be different. No social interaction that he had to force through, no social cues that he would have to read. Or human emotions that he would struggle through like he always did. It was hard to talk to people really, especially when he was confused and overwhelmed with how strange it all was.

He shook his head, and then went to wash his hair and re-tie the bun. It felt greasy and frankly that was not how he wanted to feel at the moment.

\--------

He was getting real tired of the way that he was being looked at in the archives. If he still had a flat to go to he would just stay there for eternity and wallow until he needed to take another statement. Maybe he could have stockpiled and left the institute for a while just so that Basira and Melanie weren't always angry at him.

It wasn’t his fault he was literally an avatar of a fear god. He couldn’t help it! Why couldn't they see he was just as much a passenger as they were, just with a bit more spooky archivist powers and nightmares that left him sweating and scared if he could even bring himself to sleep.  
What did he do to them other than be a little bit of an ass! He shoved his face into the ratty pillow.

The eyes popped up, there were five this time and he just looked at them from his cot on the floor. He had made it after Melanie complained about him sleeping on the break room couch. So there!

The eyes just watched silently. He grumbled. “What do you want this time?” 

Again, he should worry about his sanity for talking to floating eyes, but everything in the institute is absolutely crazy. So no harm no foul he supposed.

“Ok. Fine then. Statement of Jonathan Sims Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute and how tired and lonely he is. It’s also very cold in his office because Peter Lukas wont turn on the fucking heat! It’s not a particularly enlightening or engaging experience. There is nothing new to encounter here.

Also. Martin won’t speak to anyone, and everyone else kind of wants me dead. So nothing new for you to behold. It sucks.

Statement. Ends.”

The eyes just looked a little sad. He scoffed and rolled over on his side, away from them. Curling into himself like he usually did. 

He felt something touching his arm and he looked to see the five eyes hovering close, one was settled on his arm as it gently looked at him. Jon was a little curious as to what would happen if he touched them. Careful as he would trying to get the Admiral to come to him, he put out his hand. One of the eyes immediately took place there and he was confused as to why they felt so weird.

They felt a little like they had hair and that automatically made him very uncomfortable. Fleshy and kind of furry feeling. Despite his initial disgust, he let the eye stay where it sat in his palm, though it was just about the size of his hand. Then he carefully placed it on the blanket he had salvaged from an estate sale, it was nestled in the little place where his knees curled up a little and made a tiny wall. Then he reached out for the next one.

It went like that until all five little-- well, not so little-- eyes were watching him from the tiny nest he had created. He felt a little stupid but it was nice to have contact with something. They all watched him, and Jon smiled a little, even though he would have usually thrown something. 

He hummed, and laid his head down. Maybe if he slept now, he wouldn’t have to sleep tonight when most people had nightmares. 

Falling asleep to something watching him should not have been as comforting as it was.

\------------

The next time they showed up there were still only five of them, which for some reason made him a bit sad. He smiled a little though, as he made coffee, feeling a little more refreshed from his nap during lunch. He had also just gotten out of the shower and felt clean. Today was a day that he felt a little more human. 

But the eyes still showed up. There was a pattern usually. When he was lonely they showed up. He wondered why they did that honestly. Is there truly a reason? Or did they just appear when he was sad?

Well they didn’t just appear when he was sad, because he wasn’t terribly lonely nor melancholy that day. 

“There’s nothing interesting going on right now. I am making coffee from the horrible office coffee pot and leftover grounds. You would think for a rich man Elias would spend his money on better equipment. Though I suppose you’re the reason newer things won’t work here.”

The eyes looked like they understood and he made a dramatic noise, “Well, he can't buy much now. He’s in jail.”

One was hovering cautiously over his shoulder and he felt a tad bit guilty for throwing things at them. Of course, that was his first instinct after literally everything that had happened. Most things he didn’t understand wanted to kill him or just plain get rid of him. Being cautious shouldn’t make him feel this guilty. 

Through his guilt he stroked on the back of the eye that was covered in weird fleshy tissue and fuz with his free hand. The eye looked excited, and he huffed a laugh, taking his hand back to finish making coffee. Jon started talking about the directions and how he made said terrible caffeine monster. He dramatically retold the tale of how he had to fight the outlet to make the stupid machine work. 

It was fun, just to let loose a little. People were troublesome and avatars that looked mostly human also were trouble. Avatars that were as far from human as possible were also difficult, even if they were a bit easier to understand. Literally anything he could make hate him, he probably did he, humorlessly told himself. Jon then realized he said so out loud, but he hummed. 

“I always end up assuming the worst of course. You probably know this.” The eyes listened intently, giving him a look that almost looked like sympathy, watching him maneuver the coffee pot back into the cupboard it belonged to. Jon wondered if it was that he was becoming weirder by the day, more monstrous, or if he was just that starved for love and affection. Because most people would not feel safe being watched over by five floating eyes.

“JON WHAT THE HELL?” Oh, there was Basira. 

The eyes popped out of existence and he looked up from his cup of coffee, “What?”

Basira looks confused and she looks like she is going to ask a question but Jon cuts her off, “Well I will be in my office.”

He goes back to his office, and sits in his seat hoping that Basira would just think that she was going crazy and leave him alone. She did try to talk to him but he didn’t know more than she did anyway, so all that conversation left him with was wavering and residual hostility.

\--------

Jon let out a huff of a laugh, watching as one of the eyes started rolling around on his arm, up and down like that one american gravity ball toy. He held one arm out, then the other as the eye rolled across his shoulder. He smiled a bit, the other little eyes watching intently. 

“You are quite cute aren't you lot?” He said, more to himself than the eyes. When the eye stopped it solo act the rest of them decided to perch on his outstretched arms. Jon watched them and watched them with amusement.

They looked like a group of perching birds, if it was just eyes instead of birds. That is an interesting thought. 

After a while his arms got tired and the eyes went back to floating around and sitting on his desk. He hummed petting one with a single finger, face rested on his palm. The eyes watched over him and he sat there, not consumed by any particular emotion. The door opened and the eyes floated into the safety of his desk, hiding under it. 

It was a statement giver.

\--------

Jon did a twirl in his office, a bit more dramatic than he was used to being about himself. The long skirt flowy gently and he tugged at the fabric, a small smile on his face. He had found the thing cheap, and the woman selling it didn’t even bat an eye at his buying of it. It was a bit threadbare in places but he rather liked it.

Something nice for himself.

He heard familiar blinking noises, and looked up from the long skirt he wore. The eyes were there, seven of them floating around a few feet away. They looked at him, as if scanning him. 

Jon did another twirl, just for the fun of it. The eyes squinted happily, floating around him and blinking.

“Yes I like it too.” He said softly, and one eye landed on his head. He smiled only slightly, feeing a bit better. He sat down, one hand on the skirt. He didn’t have many clothes that he got to keep after his rent dropped and he started living in the archives. This was comforting, something new and had a tale.

The eyes were gathered in his small lap and he hummed. He was tired and hungry now, but the idea of leaving after buying something was a lot. It took a great deal of self-restraint to not feed on people while out on the town, to not force their statements out of their mouth like pulled teeth, to not enjoy it.

The eyes simply looked at him, and seemed to get cozy in the old skirt.

There was a flood of information about the skirt, and instead of just sitting through it he relayed it to his companions, “This skirt was made for someone's daughter, she loved it, years ago. Then it stopped fitting and she sold it down to others. It's made of exactly 98 percent cotton and 2 percent nylon. It was worn…”

He continued, his voice filling the room with soft noise, and he felt much better.

\----------

Martin walks into Jon’s office, almost hoping that he isn't there. Of course he missed Jon! But he had to protect him, had to protect everyone, even if that meant isolating himself. In the end everything would turn out fine. He was playing the long game with Peter Lukas and he had to keep it up, Martin would not give up his game for his own petty sadness.

Jon was there though, but instead of being in his chair, looking absolutely deprived of sleep, he was curled in a little cot. That hadn’t been there the last time Martin had spoken to Jon... Martin looked over, trying not to just absolutely die from how cute he was all curled up. His hair was a mess and his glasses were hanging precariously over the side of his pillow.

He then noticed eleven eyes in a small little nest pile where he curled. There was also one in his hair. The eyes were closed but the door alerted them and they opened up, staring at him intently as they blinked awake. 

He was a little worried they would do something bad, but they all blinked and looked at him. He could swear they looked sad and pleading. Though what would they want from him?

“What could a bunch of eyes want me to do?” He murmured to himself. Placing the files on Jon’s desk, he got a little closer cautiously. He was only a few feet away from Jon and the small gathering of eyes.

The eyes all rolled, and he chuckled a little, feeling softer than he had in months. The one eye in Jon’s hair floated near him and bumped itself on his hand almost like a cat and he smiled, before taking his hand back, the eyes strangely warm.

“Be good to Jon for me alright?”

The eyes looked sad to see him go, but went back to sleeping against Jon. Martin closed the door behind him softly. Was that his sweater Jon was wearing?


End file.
